“I’m glad.” Yu Jin dropped the pretense. He glanced at Yun Qi, his gaze brimming with sincerity.
If Yun Qi had been doing even a little better, he never would have come begging, right? They would have missed out on so much time. That was why Yu Jin was glad.
Yun Qi’s mind replayed everything Yu Jin had just said. He didn’t want to play the pity card, but in that moment, his own pent-up grievances bubbled over. He murmured softly, “Actually… before I entered the pro scene, I tried interning, just like Mom wanted—landing a good job and all that. But it didn’t work out. My condition was so bad I couldn’t even handle daily life, let alone meet new people. I was a total wreck. Then Mom passed away. At her funeral, I threw up. Dad rushed me to the hospital; my body was on the verge of collapse. I missed you so much, but I felt so guilty toward her. During those days, I truly thought I was going to die.”
Even thinking back on it now turned Yun Qi’s stomach. He clenched his fists. “Dad couldn’t bear watching me like that anymore; he was too worried. He finally gave in and let me go find you, let me pursue what I loved. That’s when I started piecing myself back together, little by little. But by then, you were already in Berlin. I never got the chance to see you. I figured you’d come back eventually, and I’d explain everything then. But life on an esports team isn’t that straightforward. I was scared you’d yell at me, humiliate me, see what a mess I’d become. You’d risen to the top of the scene by that point. It just wasn’t the right time. I love you, but I have my pride too. I wanted to wait until I’d won a championship—at least show up with some dignity. But one thing after another kept getting in the way. That time I came to you, I really had run out of options.”
SK had driven him to the brink of insanity. If both paths led to misery, he’d take Yu Jin’s scorn over Lang Xian’s harassment any day.
He didn’t regret that decision to this day—in fact, he wished he’d made it sooner. If he’d known Yu Jin still harbored feelings for him, he would have turned to him for help much earlier.
Yun Qi sat hunched in the passenger seat. Even from those few words, Yu Jin could sense his pain. He reached over and gently ruffled Yun Qi’s hair in comfort. “I know you’ve suffered a lot. But it won’t happen again. No matter who tries to get in our way, I won’t leave you.”
“It’s me who let you down…”
Yu Jin soothed him. “Let’s drop it. That’s all in the past. We couldn’t stop those things from happening, and dwelling on them won’t change anything. What matters is we’re together now, right?”
“Right.” Yun Qi hugged Tata tightly and pulled himself together. “Mom might still be upset with me, but I hope she can forgive me someday. Without you… I really can’t make it.”
Yu Jin caught Yun Qi’s hand and gripped it tightly, passing that gentle strength from his palm. “Me too,” he replied.
Once they had opened up to each other, Yun Qi felt much lighter. The drive had been oppressively heavy, so he told Yu Jin about the upheavals in his family over the years.
Starting from his mother’s death, he spoke of his father’s remarriage and their current family dynamics. Since he wasn’t his stepmother’s biological son, she wouldn’t stand in his way no matter if he liked men or women. His father, haunted by the sight of his condition back then, no longer had the heart to interfere. Now there were no barriers left between them. Time had worn everything smooth.
Over those three years, if either Yun Qi or Yu Jin had shown the slightest wavering, they never could have reignited this connection.
It was a triumph of fervent love. Persistence alone wouldn’t have sufficed; without true feelings, no one could have endured three years.
Neither was willing to settle for less, neither had eyes for anyone else. To Yu Jin, Yun Qi was like the English letters etched inside a ring—passionate, hidden, unknown to the world, and eternal.
He rolled down the car window, and wind flooded the cabin. As Yu Jin drove, his thoughts drifted back to that sweltering summer three years ago.
“Please, let my son go.” The woman on the sickbed was deathly pale. “His grades are excellent, his future so bright. He’ll get into a top university, meet a beautiful girl, raise a family, and break our generations of poverty. He’s clever and obedient from the cradle. Don’t ruin him.”
“I don’t get how boys like you think, but you don’t strike me as ordinary. Good family background? Don’t drag him down. If you’re chasing thrills, find someone else. Spare Yun Qi—he’s my only child, my sole hope. If you have any shred of conscience, don’t torment an old woman like me with this.”
“He’s just been kept on too tight a leash, so he bolts when you call. He’s never acted this wild since the day he was born—gaming, dating a boy. If word gets out, where does that leave me and his father?”
“Kid, you’d be fine without Yun Qi. He’d be better off without you. Do you really want to see such a promising boy spat on behind his back for the rest of his life?”
The hospital room had felt frigid that day, the summer heat offering no comfort. It had chilled Yu Jin’s gaze to utter coldness as the dying woman pleaded desperately with him.
In response to her words, Yu Jin said, “I like him.”
Her coughing fit worsened, as if in bitter mockery.
“I like Yun Qi,” Yu Jin repeated. Before the frail woman could draw another breath, he added, “But I’ll let him go.”
Clutching the bedsheet, she watched the boy’s figure in the room—no spark of youth, only a heavy pallor of death.
“I wish him smooth sailing all his life, that he finds his true path,” the boy said in a voice rough and low. “And I wish you a swift recovery.”
He walked out of the room.
Three years later, revisiting that afternoon in his mind, Yu Jin saw it all in an entirely different light.
They arrived at the base and parked in the garage.
Darkness cloaked everything around them. With the headlights off, they couldn’t see a thing. The window stood open, and Yu Jin’s hands remained on the steering wheel, his gaze lost somewhere in the void.
Yun Qi cradled Tata and unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching to push the door open—only to find it stuck. He turned to Yu Jin. “What’s up?”
Yu Jin glanced at the door. “In a rush to head back?”
Yun Qi shook his head. “Nah. Something on your mind?”
Yu Jin lifted his hand. Yun Qi hesitated, then offered his own. “Put the cat down first,” Yu Jin said.
“Oh.” Yun Qi set Tata on the passenger seat. Yu Jin drew him close. Though not as tall as Yu Jin, Yun Qi still found his legs cramped squeezing into the single seat. Yu Jin guided him to straddle his lap facing him. Yun Qi gripped his shoulders. “…This won’t work.”
“It’s not like you haven’t before.” Yu Jin pulled him in anyway.
The car was too confined. Yun Qi ducked his head, perched on Yu Jin’s thighs, a flush stealing up behind his ear.
Yu Jin held him tight against his chest. He did nothing else—just tilted his head to rest his forehead against Yun Qi’s chin, fingers tracing his hair and the curve of his neck, eyes shadowed and deep.
“From your mom?” Yu Jin asked.
Yun Qi caught on at once and lifted his wrist, nodding. “Yeah.”
Yu Jin chuckled softly. “She’s got a knack for sweet-talking her daughter-in-law.”
Yun Qi puffed out his cheeks and touched the bracelet. “Should I take it off?”
“Why would you?”
Yun Qi wavered. “It’s… a women’s thing.”
Yu Jin met his eyes steadily. “Who’d even know?”
The bracelet was smooth and unadorned. At a glance, it was hard to tell if it was meant for a man or a woman—though men seldom wore such things.
Yun Qi was just asking out of curiosity. If Yu Jin wanted him to take it off, he would; if not, wearing it was no big deal. Although he rarely wore jewelry, it didn’t hurt anything.
Yu Jin rubbed his neck gently and tenderly, his palm scorching hot. Before long, he brushed aside the hair by Yun Qi’s ear and asked, “Do you miss me?”
Yun Qi felt that Yu Jin was being a bit clingy—probably because they had just gotten back together, and he was thrilled about it. Yun Qi himself felt the same way. He nodded and said, “I do.”
Yu Jin pressed on. “Did you miss me all throughout these three years?”
Yun Qi’s gaze lingered on the corner of Yu Jin’s eye. “Mm-hmm.”
Yu Jin kept digging. “Every day?”
Yun Qi had always thought he should be the one taking the initiative, but now everything was completely reversed—even the confession had been started by Yu Jin. And with Yu Jin gazing at him so lingeringly, it seemed like he didn’t mind being dumped back then at all. Yun Qi was utterly baffled, but since Yu Jin had lowered his pride like this, he wouldn’t hold back anymore. “Every day, every night.”
Yu Jin broke into a satisfied smile. “Now no one’s standing in our way anymore, and from here on out, you have no excuse to dump me again.”
Yun Qi’s voice grew low and husky. “No… it won’t happen again.”
Yu Jin pulled him down onto his shoulder, tilting his head so his lips brushed against Yun Qi’s ear.
“You haven’t confessed to me yet.”
Yun Qi said, “Do you want me to?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Yu Jin replied. “Go on. I want to have a good dream tonight.”
Yun Qi shifted into a more comfortable position, his hand quietly sliding up onto Yu Jin’s shoulder. “Alright, then. Here it goes.”
Yu Jin said, “I’m all ears.”
Yun Qi straddled Yu Jin’s lap, kneeling on either side of his legs. He let out a soft breath, gripping Yu Jin’s shoulders as his eyelashes grazed Yu Jin’s cheek. In a whisper, he said, “Brother Jin, I like you. For the past three years, not a single day has gone by without me thinking of you. I like you so much—so, so much.”
With every word he uttered, Yun Qi could feel Yu Jin’s presence growing more arrogant and dangerous, spurring his own eyes to glisten with wetness.
Yun Qi hugged him tight, his mind swirling with visions of those indecent, sticky, frenzied desires. “Every night, I have to think of you just to fall asleep. No one else could ever accept it… I only want you to touch me.”
Lost in a haze of desire and confusion, he laid it all bare.
Like a little beast surrendering its arms, whimpering out its deepest cravings.
Yu Jin nipped at his earlobe, the sensation dense and searingly warm. “Well said. So… how do you want me to touch you?”
Yu Jin’s expression turned dangerous. “A hug? A kiss? Or… like we used to?”
Yun Qi’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his breaths coming quick and ragged in the car. He bit his lower lip, refusing to speak.
Yu Jin’s arm snaked around Yun Qi’s waist and came to rest on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed steadily on him.
Yun Qi twisted his own fingers together. “I don’t want… any of it.”
Yu Jin brimmed with patience. “Then what do you want?”
Yun Qi bit down hard on his lower lip, his words contradicting his heart. “I don’t want anything.”
Yu Jin clasped Yun Qi’s back and drew him flush against his chest. When he opened his eyes again, a storm churned in their depths, though his voice remained calm and even. “Alright, then. We’ll do nothing.”
